Broken Pain
by MaciBangsTaco
Summary: Clove and Cato are close, but what happens when one get's badly injured?


_**Silent Pain **_

AN – Hey everyone  
This is my first fanfiction, so be nice and make sure to review!  
Disclaimer – If I owned The Hunger Games, I doubt I would making fanfiction!

_Cato smashed through the trees, his heart hammering so loud he could clearly hear it, his vision blurring. Where was she? Her shout...of pain, despair, was so clear. He had promised her that he would look out for her. The cry rang in his ears, as he entered the clearing, spinning around looking for her._

_"Clove? CLOVE?" Cato yelled, gripping his spear so hard it almost smashed into shards. If she was doing this, making her make these horrible noises of pain, she would pay. Pay dearly. The girl with the stupid reputation, a score that outshone even Cato's...Cato would make her death one to speculate above all others. But not now. Cursing inwardly, Cato turned to face the Cornocopia._

_"Cato!" Clove's cry seemed even more chilling; a squeal, so high pitched, but full of pain. Cato heard the low murmur of talk, and boots thudding against the ground as someone ran away. Cato wasn't going to catch them. But he could still make it to her. Cato ran as fast as his legs would let him, flying through the clearing, past the Cornocopia. At first, he thought no one was there. But then he saw her: laid on her side, face almost empty of all emotion. Almost gone._

_Cato was mute, for a second, numb; glued to the ground in a silent agony. The world seemed to spin around; as Clove's last, laboured breaths left her, the forest whirring around him. They'd __gotten away.__ Cato had let whoever had done this slip away. Cato seemed to regain self-control, and gripping his spear for guidance, walked over to her beautiful, damaged body._

_Clove locked eyes with him; and all the pain in her eyes vanished; replaced by happiness. "You-came..." her mouth managed to form the words._

_Cato assed the situation. Clove's head was so badly dented: she didn't have much time. She lay against the Cornocopia, the blood flowing thick and heavy. A rock was by her side. Cato knew; it couldn't be her. Not this time._

_"I'm here, baby. I'm here." Cato knew there was no point of telling her she'd be alright. No way would it be this time._

_He trudged over to her, slipping down against the Cornocopia. He slowly cupped her pained face, stroking her cheek._

_Clove tried to open her mouth, but Cato stopped her, pressing a finger against her lips._

_"I really thought we could win this you know." A silent tear dropped down Clove's cheek. She was never going home. "I'm glad we had this last time together, baby. You and me. It's always been that way, right? When I volunteered...to save you-" Clove shook her head. She still held her self-pride. "Your not as strong as they think. You made me realize-so many things, Clove. I just wish we could have had more time, baby." Clove actually nodded. No one knew her like this. Cato and her had spent a childhood together. Training together._

_Clove's memories all came flooding back. The time Clove found a crying Cato when he failed to achieve a perfect training score. The time Cato taught Clove how to fight with a spear. When Clove tried to teach Cato to dance in the dappled sunlight of her garden._

_All gone. Nothing left._

_Cato almost choked, right there, almost sucummbed to the tears. But then he remembered the cameras. _

_"Clove, I'll never forget you. I'll win this thing; for you. Not for me. Not for them. For you. For us. I-I love you."_

_Clove closed her eyes, satisfied. She'd heard those words. Those sweet words no one had ever told her. She ached for Cato; for her future that could've been with him. All Clove's life had been strife with neglect and pain; with the wanting for a warrior lifestyle...her parents: the cold pair had never showed her any compassion. She had believed Cato was only her friend; until he told her he wanted more._

_Clove had always known they'd had limited time. They'd made several enimies back home, from their pranks to actual, proper enemies who cried for their blood. And now, when they entered this arena: all Clove had ever been raised for, she knew it. She had to survive, no matter the personal cause. How things could've been different. Clove had always been a career. But people had greatly underestimated her fears; her vulnerability and her great, heaving sadness._

_It's too late for me now, Clove thought. But not too late for Cato._

_Pain radiated from every orfice on her body; tears rolling thick and heavy. Clove's vision was blurring, Cato's head looming above her, his head just visible against the slowly fading forest. It wasn't painful anymore, just...numbing. Death was coming. Clove wasn't one to cry. She really thought she-we she corrected herself, would make it home. Together. Her and Cato. They could've had a future. All gone. She had limited time. She must tell him...before the darkness overcame her._

_"I love you to, Cato." Clove whispered, her breathing heavy and ragged. "Promise me...win...win for me, Cato. Don't ever forget me...don't ever change...goodbye, my love..." Cato bit down on his lip, "I love you Clove. I'll never forget you, baby." Cato leant down and kissed her lips, for the first time. It was so sweet; the salty tears mingling, both aware, and desperate for their last chance. Clove's lips were slowly freezing, as Cato leant away, his hand cupping her face. Clove was almost ecstatic: all she'd ever hoped for...Cato, kissing her! Maybe she could go to death's icy fortess, content and happy. What was left for her in life? She closed her eyes, slipping in and out of the overwhelming darkness, and as Cato's single tear slipped down her cheek, the darkness won over, and the Canon fired. Cato sat for a minute, her head in his lap, his steady breathing against the silent wild. Was this sadness? Regret? Longing for what could be? Cato leaned down and kissed her cold lips, before putting her down, gently. The blood made her look strong, cold, but vulnerable, even in death. It pained Cato to leave her like this: her body broken, the Capitol ready to swoop down and encase her. In death, Clove was the weakest Cato had ever seen. And it was the real her. The real us, Cato thought. Clove, in the end, brought out the best in Cato. Made him love, made him feel. _

_"Bye, Clove." Cato whispered, blowing a silent kiss towards the Cornocopia._

_Without looking back, Cato walked into the forest, making a silent vow to get him._

_Thresh._


End file.
